The Vildecaz Talents: The complete set of Vildecaz Stories including Nimuar's Loss, The Deceptive Oracle and Agnith's Promise (38 page)

“At least we have variety tonight,” muttered Romjai Vethcaz, the postilion for Elet’s largest carriage; long days in the saddle guiding four horses for the coachman had left him tired and sore. “Another night of cheese and pork and sour beer would have done me.”

“Then make the most of the venison and lamb,” recommended ae-Dysin, and laughed at his own cleverness.

“And don’t go to bed sober,” added Boriar Wiandoj.

Most of the men thumped the tables again, endorsing this plan.

“Do you think you’ll be satisfied with our meal?” Elet asked Erianthee, as if to shut out the enthusiasm of his men.

“I should hope so. The menu is a lavish one.” She saw three waiters emerge from the kitchen with baskets of bread, tubs of butter and a spread of herbs and roots for which Porcaz was famous.

“I’m sorry your maid and your cook won’t join us here, but I think you’re right in recommending they dine alone. They aren’t one of this company.”

“You have asked that they not join us for meals, Goriach,” Erianthee pointed out, still annoyed at this high-handed decision.

“It isn’t seemly to have such underlings attend a dinner like this. You give your servants too much liberty.”

There were a number of retorts that Erianthee stifled in her throat, vexed as much with herself as with Elet, for she was well-aware that Hajmindor Elet was truly an arrogant bully. Not for the first time she wondered why Emperor Riast had insisted on having him and his company escort her to Tiumboj. “It is the custom in Vildecaz to have the whole household dine together.”

“So you’ve told me – and for a remote place like Vildecaz it may make sense. But here, in the Imperial Province, it would hardly maintain the dignity of the Empire.” Elet favored her with a smug smile.

“Vildecaz isn’t in the Empire,” said Erianthee, puzzled why Elet was so determined to insult her.

“Perhaps not,” said Elet. “But it is dependent upon it. Vildecaz only exists because it is on our border. Otherwise the Kingdom of Waniat would have seized it long ago, and annexed it to their lands.”

Erianthee did her best not to become angry. She put all her attention on the meal, and at its conclusion, retired to her apartments in the inn for a bath and a time to summon her talents in preparation for her Shadowshows for Riast.

“They’ve been into your trunks again,” said Rygnee as Erianthee entered the bedroom of her three-room suite.

“Who’s been into my trunks?” Erianthee asked, feeling very tired. “What do you mean, in my trunks?”

“I think it must be Elet’s men. They have the opportunity, and it is the sort of thing they want to do.” Rygnee held up her hands in aggravation. “I wish I could box their ears for all they do.”

“You’re truly sure they’re doing it?” Erianthee knew she ran a risk of offending Elet if she should make an accusation that turned out to be erroneous. “Mightn’t it be the staff here?”

“It’s been going on since Elet took over your escort, so it can’t be the servants here, or any local magician. At first I thought it was because the road was so rough that all our belongings were bounced about, but then, when I tied down all the trunks, the clothes and other supplies continued to move. So far nothing appears to have been taken,” said Rygnee. “What am I supposed to do? I hate to think what they might have removed . . . or put there,” she added darkly.

“You mean spells?” Erianthee asked, her apprehension increasing.

“That at least. They could also put objects that would suggest alliances the Emperor would not approve.”

“Is that what Fithnoj says? Are you two in agreement?” Erianthee asked, not wanting to hear her answer.

“He says his tools have been rifled, but so far nothing appears to be missing,” said Rygnee. “You may ask him if you like.”

“I will, but tomorrow before we leave. Tonight I need to soak and then to take some time for myself and my talent. I’m not as composed as I should be.” She sighed, seeing the dismay in Rygnee. She made a compensatory gesture, saying, “I’m sorry this has been so difficult for you, Rygnee, and for Fithnoj.”

“Fithnoj is as temperamental as an Oofan without a horse,” said Rygnee, dismissing Erianthee’s concerns. “Let anyone touch so much as a ladle and he behaves as if someone has invaded his lands and sacked his towns.”

“All the nobles on Fah are like that about their horses, not just Oofans,” said Erianthee, smiling a little. “This must have been a hard time for him.”

“If it has been, he shouldn’t be a travel-cook, he should become a Cook-Major at an inn like this, and make the kitchen his fiefdom. Travel-cooks haven’t the luxury of authority in a kitchen.” Rygnee frowned. “I’m sorry, Duzeon. He and I have had a few disagreements in the last few days. He claims I am attempting to engage the attention of Elet’s men, and I say not.”

Erianthee began to loosen the under-arm lacing of her gaunel, preparing to undress for the evening. “I would agree with you – you have been most circumspect. He has no reason to complain.”

Rygnee brought Erianthee her jalai and helped her to squirm out of her gaunel, then eased her guin over her head. “I’ll attend to these, Duzeon.”

“Thank you, Rygnee.” She shrugged into the jalai, not bothering to belt it; the long, loose folds were comfortable and warm. “I hope Nininaee isn’t taking the brunt of the cold. Vildecaz is probably colder now than we are.”

“Maeshar of Otsinmohr will use it as an excuse to visit again,” said Rygnee, slipping the gaunel into its travel-sack.

“With more drunken companions, no doubt, and taking advantage of his position, not as Goriach, but as Riast’s cousin,” Erianthee added. “Last year he came to the Castle six times in three months, and not one time did he remain sober past mid-afternoon. He said he was there was to arrange for ships out of Valdihovee to carry Otsinmohrin goods. He’s established some exchanges with Aim Jornisailaj for Otsinmohrin dyes for Ymiljesin leathers and woods, with the promise of more trade in future. It gives him an excellent excuse to come to Vildecaz.”

“And that worries you,” said Rygnee.

“For my sister’s sake it does,” Erinanthee admitted.

“Because Maeshar seeks to be her Official Suitor?”

“She wouldn’t have him if he came with all the Boarthine Peninsula as a bride-gift,” said Erianthee with an angry burst of laughter. “Nor would I.” She dared not say anything about her fear that Maeshar would eventually discover what happened to Ninianee at the three nights of the full moon.

“Then why do you fret for her? She will not accept him.”

“Otsinmohr is a province of the Porzalk Empire, and Maeshar wants to enlarge it, as much to line his own pockets as to curry favor with Riast,” said Erianthee, feeling uneasy at admitting so much. “Pay no attention to me, Rygnee. We are almost at Tiumboj and I am becoming edgy at the nearness of the end of my travel, when I must perform for Riast’s Court.”

“Why should this trouble you? You’ve done it before, well enough to be summoned back,” said Rygnee.

“But each time the Emperor wants something grander than last time, and there is only so much I can do with the Spirits of the Outer Air. I can sustain a Shadowshow for up to two hours, but nothing longer, and nothing vastly magnificent and complex for much more than an hour. Every time I perform for him, his expectations increase. One day I will be unable to show him more than I have done in the past, and he will be displeased.” She held up her hand to express her limitations. “Nothing I have said convinces him of this.”

“Nothing you have said could convince him, from what I have heard about Riast.” Rygnee looked over her shoulder toward the door. “Are we likely to be overheard?”

“I hope not,” said Erianthee. “The room should have privacy spells on it, or so the landlord has assured us.” She made sign in the air to reveal spells.

“What do you think?” said Rygnee when no spells were exposed.

“I think someone must be eavesdropping,” said Erianthee. “Whomever it is, you and I should watch what we say while we’re here.”

“I should have discovered the lack,” said Rygnee. “Given that I dined in the sitting room, I should have – “

”Why?” Erianthee interrupted her even as she performed the minor ritual to block the apartments from more eavesdropping. Feeling a bit safer, she went on levelly, “The rooms were said to be protected, and your talents don’t usually respond to absent spells.”

“But still,” said Rygnee. “Heijot Merinex warned me the day before we left Vildecaz that I should be alert to magical intrusions. This is why he warned me, and I should have been prepared. I thought he meant at Court, not on the road.”

“Perhaps he meant both,” said Erianthee, surprised that Merinex had taken so much upon himself.

“I’ll be more diligent, Duzeon, I promise you,” Rygnee said emotionally. “Just tell me when I’m not upholding Vildecaz’s reputation.”

“You needn’t bother to ask – it isn’t as important as you think. Servants are expected to gossip and to exaggerate.” She thought about how competitive servants could be, and added, “You exceed my expectations, and those of Merinex, as well, and I value your candor and your concern. But I would appreciate it if you could speak of other things now. I am weary of futility, and most of this seems futile.” She turned toward the door. “Where is Fithnoj?”

“In the kitchen. Of course. He wants to have a complete tour of the place, including the creamery and bakery.”

“Very well,” said Erianthee. “Let’s make the most of his absence to see which items of my clothes need cleaning. I want real cleaning, not magical. I can’t appear before Riast in anything frowsy.”

Now it was Rygnee’s turn to sigh. “Very well, Duzeon.” She lifted the lid of the nearest trunk and began to pull out clothing-sacks, thinking now that she might have done better to keep her distress to herself, for the sake of easier travel, and for her own peace of mind.

“If anyone here or at Court asks you anything about our travel, say it went well enough considering how much bad weather we encountered,” said Erianthee. “Elet’s men will say the same thing.”

“As you wish – it’s true enough,” said Rygnee, concealing her perplexity while she looked over the garments she had set out, convinced that she had to do something to make up for her failure to ensure Erianthee’s privacy.

* * *

“I go no farther,” said Sinj Umver to Ninianee as they reached the crest of the rise they had been ascending for most of the morning. “This is where we part. You can find the rest of the way without me.” The day was brilliantly clear, sunlight shattering off ice and snow, making the mountains glow with light where the sun struck the expanses of white.

“What do you mean, we part?” Ninianee asked, squinting and seeing only a shadow where his face should be.

“Only the petitioner of the Golozath Oracle may continue down this road without ill consequences,” said Umver in his most pragmatic tone. “If anyone else dares come with the petitioner, the Oracle will remain silent but demand a gift of all who dare to approach.”

“Why is this the first you’ve mentioned that your departure would be so far from the Oracle?” Ninianee demanded, squinting and shading her eyes in order to make out the faint track under the snow.

“You knew these things, that I would come only to the point where the roads divide, and that you must travel the approach alone,” said Umver. “I was assured that you were prepared, and we have discussed what you must do.”

“But I thought you could come to the entrance to the Oracle’s place, not that we would part company here,” she said, trying to forget what Poyneilum Zhanf had told her, and Heijot Merinex in the days before she left Vildecaz. She was shocked at how much fear she had rising within her. “Why didn’t you tell me you had to stop here, well before the Oracle’s place is in sight?’

“Because you might have turned back at the start,” said Umver. “As I must do now.”

“You can’t,” she said emphatically, all the while knowing that it was true. “How am I to find the Oracle without your help?”

Umver pointed to a declivity in the rocks ahead, and the worn path through it. “That is the way to go. It is the only trail in this area other than this road, and you can’t take a wrong turn, since there isn’t one. There is nothing ahead but the Golozath Oracle, so you need only stay on the trail – “

”There is snow on the trail,” she said bluntly, out of patience with herself for this loss of bravery. She hardly thought about what she asked. “What if I turn the wrong way?”

“I’ve already told you – you can’t turn the wrong way, Duzeon. There is nowhere else to go. That road has only one destination.” He shaded his eyes. “I can wait for you at The Old Fox,” he offered as an afterthought.

The inn where they had spent the previous night was scarcely more than a barn, its rooms small and noisome, the ale watered, the broiled meat tough, the beds uncomfortable, and the stalls for the animals just the other side of the primitive kitchen, blending the odors of cooking and stalls in an unappetizing smell that had long since permeated the walls. It had a only a small stockade for protection, and a minimal staff. “I’ll wait three days, if you like, four if the weather turns bad.”

She wanted to say yes but couldn’t bring herself to speak the word, as if such a concession would compromise her mission entirely. “It won’t be necessary.”